johnnypenn (johnnypenn) wrote,
johnnypenn
johnnypenn

Dogpatch - Chapter 9 (b)


The Dog Patch

  

Disclaimer – I do not own these characters. I make no money off this fan fiction.

 

Pairing – Eventual H-Bamf

 

Rating – R/NC17

 

Warnings – War time Violence, sex and possibly some kink

 

 

Summary – AU – Templeton Peck is mistaken for a world renowned spy. He is stuck in a prison camp to be trained as a secret weapon of the A-Team, who are Traitors to America.

 

A/N – Okay, so from now on I’m going to be referring to Templeton as Face; Because that’s who he thinks of himself as a person. Before, since I was concealing the fact that he was a world famous assassin, letting him refer to himself as Face in the POV would have been giving it away. So from a writerly standpoint, it makes sense. I just don’t want anyone to become confused when I change mid POV.

Chapter 9 - Running in Circles  (cont.)

 

 

The radio frazzled to life. The channel was unclear but Morrison answered nonetheless; “Hannibal?”

 

          “Morrison, I have a proposition for you,” Hannibal said.

 

          The static grew for a second before evening out.

 

          “Yes?” Morrison asked.

 

          “I’ll give you the location of a VC strong hold if you give me Peck,”

 

          “That can be arranged,” Morrison replied without a seconds thought. If the kid were here, he’d be devastated to know Morrison would trade him so easily. Like a football player in the NFL.

 

          “Good…here are the coordinates,”

 

          Morrison took them down and then he said; “I’ll send you the kid’s papers through the usual rout,” and the channel cut out on them. It’d be two days till Hannibal got hold of the discharge papers on Peck; papers that’d list him as dead in the line of duty.

 

 

0-0-0

 

          “Have you read that letter from your Mama yet?’ Murdock asked. He stood at the stove running a spatula through some eggs. In the oven he kept a sharp eye on the bread. Wood baking wasn’t nearly as relaxing as baking with an electric stove. However, it wasn’t as if they had a generator this deep in the jungle for power.

 

          “Yeah, she always makes sure that her letters are long. There’s a whole stack of them, since we hadn’t been able to get the mail for three months now,” BA looked up from the cup of coffee he held and the first letter out of the stack of twenty.

 

          “What do you think you’ll tell her about Face?” Murdock asked.

 

          “Not much, why?” BA growled good naturedly.

 

          “I was just wondering…” Murdock shrugged, he banged the frying pan a bit, “I like him,”

 

          “I know that, fool,” BA rolled his eyes.

 

          “Not like…in a friend sense….more in the….lover sort of sense,” Murdock turned to face BA. “You have to admit, he has one hell of a body,” he waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

 

          “You and I both know Hannibal will be his first,” BA grunted.

 

          “I know, but…it’s nice to think about,” Murdock giggled. He turned back to the eggs. Hannibal hated burnt eggs and Murdock only did that when he was pissed at his older Lover.

 

          “Come to think of it…why do you think Hannibal held off?”

 

          “He probably didn’t want to scare the poor colt,” BA grumped.

 

          “Yeah, Face was kind of scared when we bathed him that one time,”

 

          “How do you know?” BA asked.

 

          “It’s just what I do…” Murdock flipped the eggs onto a waiting plate, “Telepathy, ya know,” he suggested.

 

          “Man! You ain’t got no telepathy! Fool!”

 

          Murdock humphed and smirked at BA; “Well, now I do!”

 

          He pulled out the baking bread and set it to the side to cool off. He sliced two slices from a half loaf on a near by cutting board and put it on the plate. Then with a freshly poured cup of coffee he put it all on a tray and sauntered out of the kitchen.

 

          The day held to the sun shine. The storm had moved off west and the Jungle smelt fresh. There was no smell of napalm in the air and it gave Murdock a bit of a hop to his step.

 

          It was a short walk to Hannibal’s hut where he found the older man cuddling their young prisoner. Who looked to be out cold.

 

          “Awe, I thought he might be hungry,” Murdock looked a bit put out.

 

          “Well, I am,” Hannibal said. He didn’t move as Murdock made his way towards the bed.

 

          “What’d you do? Give him some of BA’s knock out juice?”

 

          “Yeah, I think the kid needs more rest,” Hannibal replied.

 

          “How is his back? I didn’t go easy on him,” Murdock put the tray on the night stand. Hannibal picked up the cup of coffee.

 

          “You can see to it,” Hannibal replied. He eased out from under Face and let Murdock see to the injuries. They were red and scabbing. The infection included a light green puss that Murdock wiped away with a damp cloth he’d gotten from the water basin in the corner.

 

          Murdock started up the fire in the grate to boil some water for bathing Face’s lashes and from his pocket he pulled out the jungle potion. It smeared on green but turned white after a few hours. It smelled slightly weird, but the numbing effect was a life saver.

 

          “Have you heard anything over the radio?” Hannibal asked.

 

          “Nope, even the American’s are quiet today,” Murdock shook his head as he waited for the water to boil, “Tuan Tu’ is still hiding out, though he isn’t at Waterloo any more,”

 

          “And his father?” Hannibal asked.

 

          “No one can find him,” Murdock shrugged, “It’s like he disappeared,”

 

          “Damn,”

 

          “What’s wrong Colonel?” Murdock questioned.

 

          “Nothing, yet,” he sighed, “we may have to move ourselves,” he shook his head.

 

          “You mean…leave…Vietnam?” Murdock blinked.

 

          “Yes, we may have to leave our Jungle,” Hannibal sat down at his desk.

 

          “Where will we go?” Murdock scuffed the floor with the toe of his shoe.

 

          Germany sounds nice,” Hannibal replied, “I have a safe house there I’ve kept up on since we built Dogpatch,” Hannibal shrugged, “It’s not much,”

 

          “But will it have electricity?” Murdock asked.

 

          “Yes, and hot water for baths any time you want,” Hannibal chuckled.

 

          “And…we can bring Face, right?”

 

          “Yes, we’ll bring him along. We need a week to pack our stuff and get to the air field. I have a plane standing by all ready,” Hannibal informed him.

 

          “Ah, we’ll need to knock the big guy out, he hates flying,” Murdock chuckled.

 

          “And, I think that Face will need a change, he’ll be devastated when he finds out,” Hannibal shook his head.

 

          “What’d you do now?” Murdock crossed his arms. He couldn’t help but feel slightly protective of their captive.

 

          “I gave Morrison some information he needed and in return he’s giving us the Kid,” Hannibal sipped the coffee and waited.

 

          It took seconds for Murdock to understand what Hannibal had done; “you mean, we get to keep him?” he jumped up and down and clapped his hands excitedly.

 

          “Yes, Murdock,” Hannibal shook his head.

 

          “I can’t wait to tell him!” if it’d been anyone else, this little scene might have been disturbing, but Face completed their little group, their family. It was only right that he stay.

 

          “He’s going to be under for some hours,” Hannibal rolled his eyes.

 

          “Damn,” Murdock sighed, and then the tea kettle started whistling. Murdock poured the hot water into a bowl. He still had to wait some minutes till it was cool enough to bath Face’s back with. He didn’t want to burn the man.

 

          “Oh! Colonel!” Murdock raised a hand to get Hannibal’s attention, that’d wavered to his paper, “can I pilot the plane?”

 

          Hannibal grinned; “Sure, Murdock,”

 

 

 

         

 

         

 

 

 

 

Tags: au, ba, faceman, fan fiction, hannibal, murdock, pow camp, the a-team, vietnam
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